After Everything
by LostInBlueSkies
Summary: Warrick and Catherine have had an exhausting day, so they go out for a drink and the tension mounts. WC, with possible other pairings to come.
1. The Night Before

Title: After Everything – Chapter One

Author: Marita Linde

Pairing: A whole lot of YoBling (C/W), and a little bit of C/G friendship. I might add other pairings as I go along, but as of now nothing specific is in the plan.

Summary: Warrick's had an exhausting day, and Catherine takes him out for a drink to make something of the tension they've been feeling for years.

Thanks: To Amber, Zsazsa, and Rainblows, for being the best editors/proof readers ever. Especially Amber, because she wrote me Mia/Hodges. :)

This one's for Les, who requested hot Warrick/Catherine.

"So let me get this straight." Warrick's deep voice sliced through the heavy stillness of the interrogation room and caused a tremor in the air – Catherine felt it resonate through her bones and shivered. "You beat your wife to death because she refused to take out the trash?"

Catherine watched him, his elbows perched on the edge of the table and his eyes, suddenly cold, staring straight into hers. She knew that look, she'd seen it thousands of times. It was the look that told her of the weight of knowledge, of seas and countries of the truth – everything neither of them could forget.

She heard him sigh as he followed her out of the room, putting a warm, heavy hand on the small of her back. She could feel his body heat all over and around her, making her ache and wish she was someone – and somewhere – else. "Some days," he said, and collapsed on the chair in the hallway while the officer brought the cuffed killer past them.

She nodded, exhaling loudly and sitting beside him. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands, intensity seeping from his pores. "I can't believe the way some people treat each other." His voice was hoarse, but he wasn't upset, just appalled. When he put his hand on her knee, she felt the muscles in his fingers, and it made her mind wander.

"You got time for a drink?" she asked, her mind screaming no but her body screaming yes, yes, yes. She watched him as he turned his face to her, his eyes roaming over her with that look still set deep within them.

"Yeah," he said simply, standing and offering her his hand. She took it and felt the warmth of his skin seep through her, almost shivering. Everything about him tonight was intent and focused – his jaw was clenched and the tendons in his neck were bulging. She felt no shame in staring at him and hoping she could help him unwind tonight.

* * *

They arrived at the club twenty minutes later, both of them drenched in hope and anticipation, walking quickly to the bar in time with the music. The air was thick but full of possibilities, and Catherine felt like a different person, all tainted and mysterious. She stole a glance at Warrick as he was ordering their drinks and found herself fascinated with the shine of sweat on the back of his neck.

He handed her drink to her without saying a word, only searched through her face and hung on something he found there. "You ever been here?" he breathed.

She tried not to show what he did to her. "No," she said, smiling, trying to get back to what they used to be. What happened to funny, harmless Warrick? She took one look at the snatch of chest peeking through the top of his blue shirt and told herself he was long gone. "I like it, though." The music's beat stole through her, mixed itself up inside her. She bobbed her whole body to it, hoping she didn't look ridiculous.

He took a long, drawn-out drink from his glass and continued to watch her. Their silence felt personal, almost sexual. "Do you dance?" he asked, his voice more familiar.

"Not well," she lied. "Not to this kind of music, anyway." Now that was more honest.

"What, you don't have the beat, Cath?" He grinned at her and held out his hand. Reluctantly she took it, feeling him all over her again, and followed him out to the dance floor where pulsating, thumping bodies were already gathered.

He looked at her closely, frowning, then pulled her closer to him so their bodies were almost touching, but not quite, and started moving. She could feel his breath against her forehead, but she tried to concentrate on the beat of the music and move to it. As soon as she started, he put a hand on her waist and gently pulled her with him so her movements were parallel to his. Her blood was boiling and she could feel that his was, too. Electricity was racing through the air and landing all over them – she lowered her head and moved closer to him, feeling his tension.

"Catherine," he whispered, and she almost lost it. "I can't take this anymore. Your place or mine?"

She admired him for his forwardness. She smiled, then leaned into his body, put an arm around him and whispered, "Mine."

* * *

He groaned softly above her as she lay on the cool sheets of her bed, her hair spread out around her and her fingers on his back, gripping and tugging at skin so soft it made her sigh. His hand was twisted around white sheet – she could feel the tightness of the fabric underneath her shoulders.

She had come to him long ago (amidst not-so-whispered words of encouragement and praise and then, ever so softly, his name) and she was triumphant as she watched his face clench and his mouth open to call out to her and disturb the static air around them. He fell on to her and they were like a pile of heaving skin, humming and tingling and beating all together.

She awoke in the middle of the night from a dream about him – his lips parted and against hers, their legs tangled and moving, their bodies so together that they were almost like one – and reached over to grip his strong shoulder and take him again. Her body was full of him, her skin was on fire with him, yet all she wanted was more of him. And her mind sang of the way he moved and how beautiful the cream-and-brown mingling of their skin was.

More to come.


	2. The Morning After

Title: After Everything – Chapter Two

Author: Marita Linde

Rating: T/M, for reasons that will become obvious.

Notes: I know the end of this chapter has a semi-C/G romance feel, but I promise this story is primarily W/C and will end that way.

Early the next morning, the sun shone in through Catherine's open blinds and woke her. She stirred, pulling down the blankets that were crowding around her and glancing at Warrick sleeping soundly beside her.

The mood that had been so prominent the night before – thick air, husky voices, the tingling of skin-on-skin – was completely gone now, leaving only discomfort, soreness, and satisfaction in its place. Catherine was very sore. She hadn't had sex in five months, and last night had been enough to make even a much younger version of herself sore for a very long time.

Warrick began to wake up, and she watched him as he blinked and rolled over to face her. "Hey," she said, and smiled.

"Morning," he said, his voice hoarse and coated with sleep.

All of the sudden she was nervous, waiting for him to say something like, 'What happened last night?' or the fear-inducing equivalent. Instead he smiled at her and leaned over to kiss her softly. "So," she said as soon as she had recovered, "what now?"

He stared at her, a different version of himself than the one she'd seen the night before. He was less mysterious now, dripping only with early morning sexiness from the fact that he was in her bed. Finally. "What's now?" he asked, and she sighed. That was so like him.

"Well, we do work together," she managed. "This could get weird."

He grinned. "It wasn't weird last night, and it doesn't feel weird now." He rolled out of bed and she was struck dumb with the sight of his naked body gleaming in the sun like something out of a romance novel.

She felt like a teenager as she stuttered, "Well, maybe we should just take it as it comes."

He kneeled on to the bed and took her hand. "Catherine, nothing has to get strange if we don't want it to." His eyes ran down the length of her body, covered in sheets, and then he said, "I'm going to shower. Wanna join me?"

Well, she only had one answer for that.

* * *

She climbed out of the shower twenty minutes later, pruned and exhausted, and went to make breakfast while Warrick finished and got dressed. She heard him humming while she buttered her muffin and smiled, anxiety for once not clouding her mind.

He slipped into the kitchen a little later, fully dressed in jeans and a black shirt, and looked like he was in a hurry. She didn't blame him – both of them knew Lindsey would be up any minute for school and that was one road that did not need to be traveled on just yet.

"I guess I'll see you in a few hours," he said softly, affection in his voice. She smiled and handed him a muffin, watching him walk out the door and into the sun.

* * *

Later that day she drove to work, her mind still focused on the image of Warrick above her, his dark skin glowing from the light of her bedside lamp. She tried not to catch Gil's eye as she sauntered into the break room and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"You look great," he said absent-mindedly, leaning against the counter and reading the paper.

"Thanks," she replied, staring at the side of his head and the way his grey hair still curled a little around his ears. "You look tired."

He sighed and put down the paper. "I'm exhausted," he said, looking straight into her eyes and making her uncomfortable. "Do you want to do lunch today? I need an outlet."

She smiled. "You're tired of your job, and you think having lunch with me will fix that?"

"Not tired of it," he said, smiling back at her. "Just tired from it. And yes, I do think having lunch with you will fix that."

She slammed her bottle of water against his chest playfully. "Maybe you should try sleeping." Walking out the door, she swung her hair lightly and said, "I'll meet you at Henri's at 3."

* * *

"So,"Gil said, shoving his fork down into his salad, "Who'd you sleep with?"

"God," she breathed, completely shocked, "You'd think after knowing you for over a decade I'd be used to how forward you are."

"No one is," he said, taking a drink of water.

"I really would like to know how you can always tell, though," she told him lightly, poking at her fries.

"I'm a crime scene investigator," he said, shrugging. "It's what I do."

Catherine laughed out loud. "So am I, but that doesn't mean I can tell every time you've had sex."

"That's because I don't have sex," he said, not looking her in the eye.

"Yeah, right," she said under her breath. He heard and raised an eyebrow and the silence was unbearable for five minutes before Catherine finally broke in with, "It was Warrick."

He leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Okay." She could tell he wasn't pleased, but she loved him for not lecturing her. Normally he'd be all over her with how terrible of an idea it was, but sleeping with co-workers was something Gil couldn't preach about without being a hypocrite. "Just be careful, Catherine," he said slowly. "Don't get yourself in trouble at work, and, more importantly, please don't get me in trouble."

She laughed and went back to her meal, pretending not to see the way he stared at her as she ate.


	3. The Best Friend

After Everything – Chapter Three

Notes: I'm aware that this chapter kind of sucks, but I really wanted to update and I haven't got a lot of time to edit it. Thanks so much for the nice reviews and I hope you guys aren't disappointed by this:)

* * *

Catherine sighed, her shoulders and back aching as she trudged down the hallway of the lab and made her way to the locker room. One more case like that one, she thought, remembering the tiny eight-year-old girl shivering in the corner of a run-down trailer, and she'd be hiding a flask of whiskey in her purse every time she came into work.

She opened the locker room door and walked in to find Warrick standing in front of her, half-naked, holding a shirt in his hand and grinning.

"Heeelloo," she said, eyebrows raised. "Now this is just what I needed after the day I've had."

He held out his arms towards her and she walked forward to hug him, hardly hesitating. "I was thinking," he said, the sound of his voice coming through his chest vibrating under her ear. "Maybe tonight you could come over to my place and I'll make you dinner."

She looked up at him, studying the smooth contours of his lips and the intense green of his eyes before saying, "Make it my place," and kissing him. He put his hands in her hair and turned her around to push her against the lockers softly.

"What if someone sees us?" he mumbled, pressing a hand against her lower back.

"Then someone sees us," she answered. She pushed him closer to her and was about to kiss him even more deeply when they both heard a loud 'ahem'.

Gil stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame and the other behind his back. He was wearing a look that almost made Catherine cringe. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said slowly, walking in the room cautiously and standing away from them. "But Ecklie is prowling around and I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to suspend you both." He raised an eyebrow and left, looking impatient and very angry.

Warrick exhaled. "That was awkward."

* * *

She was standing in her kitchen cleaning later that day when she heard the doorbell ring. Wiping her hands off on her pants as she walked, she opened the door to find Gil standing there with a very abashed look on his face, holding a bottle of vodka.

"Hi," he said, smiling. "I came to apologize." He handed her the vodka and she let him in the house.

"Apologize, huh," she said slowly, "for what?"

He gave her a pointed look and leaned against her counter. "For the way I acted today in the locker room. I'm sorry for being so…" he paused, staring her in the face, "you know."

She nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I certainly do." Opening the bottle of vodka, she made them both screwdrivers and handed one to him. "What was that about, anyways?" she asked, slugging the alcohol back.

"I was just being… territorial," Gil answered, once again watching her and looking very nervous.

Catherine raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Territorial towards your favourite CSI, your best friend, or...?"

He looked confused and vulnerable. "I don't know why I felt the way I did, it's just that maybe… you," he coughed, "mean more to me than I thought you did."

She tilted her head, taking his vodka from him and drinking it. "That's… extremely inconvenient," was all she could manage.

"Tell me about it," he replied, looking gravely serious. Sighing, he reached over to the bottle of vodka and poured them both another drink.

* * *

Warrick came about ten minutes late that night, dressed in a soft-looking blue sweater and jeans. "Hi," he said, his voice low. She smiled and let him in, her heart beating faster in excitement.

"Has Grissom talked to yet?" Catherine asked, pouring them a drink.

"No," he said, sounding almost confused. "Why, what did he say to you?"

She stared at him for a few seconds, feeling vulnerable and slightly nervous, although she wasn't sure why. "Nothing," she lied, then walked over to him and pressed her body against his. "Typical Grissom," she murmured, reaching up to pull his head down for a slow, intense kiss.

"Well, now I know why you wanted me here." His eyes were glassy and focused on her body and she felt a sudden surge of self-confidence. "You're just using me, aren't you?" he joked.

"As if you mind," she replied, and pulled off his shirt.


End file.
